Little Bird
by Roguie
Summary: It's time for her to remember the man she once called Killian when the rest of the world referred to him only as Hook.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Little Bird

Fandom: Once Upon a Time

Characters: Killian Jones, Emma Swan

Pairing: Captain Swan

Rating: High T to low M – can't help what's in a guy's head.

Spoilers: Post 3x11 – Going Home

Summary: It's time for her to remember the man she once called Killian when the rest of the world referred to him only as Hook.

Disclaimer: Don't own it. Don't own anything really… not even my house when you think about it, the bank owns that for another fifteen years or so. I suppose I do own my car, though. And my dogs. And a rather impressive collection of Farscape memorabilia. Please don't sue… never claimed for a second to own your stuff. ;)

A/N: So I've only recently started writing in first person, and most of that has been for TVD's Damon, but I figured, eh, what the hell, I'd give it a go here. I have a true fascination for the good man that lives inside every bad boy, hence my love for our dear Killian Jones. I apologize if I've erred somewhere along the lines in this as I'm just starting to catch up on S3 currently. I know the jist of what happens (sue me, I'm a spoiler whore) and I've kind of gone a bit wild from there. This is not only my first crack at dear Hook, but also at OUaT all together. With a bit of luck and inspiration, perhaps it won't be my last. I'm considering doing a smutty second block to this fic, so if that's something you'd care to see, please let me know. My muse is rather fond of cheer leaders and support… just saying. ;)

~~?~~

Where I come from, torture and agony are minor details of a busy day. As a pirate one learns to sleep with one eye open, have one's sword at the ready even whilst otherwise pleasurably occupied (if you understand my meaning), to mind one's shadow because there's nothing innocent about the absolute absence of all light. I've lost my hand, lost my love, lost my mind one could argue somewhere in the centuries of life that in themselves have been a torture. I've lived a life of hatred and revenge, allying myself with common sorts, royal sorts, evil and innocent sorts, whatever sort was needed to get me that step closer to living out the only purpose I'd seen in waking up with each new sun, day after day, swell after swell, realm after realm.

I never knew a single moment of true torturous agony until the moment Regina put her plan into play, and the only ray of light to shine on my dark, worthless life walked over the line and out of my life.

How long have you known me, precious readers? Since the days I bred my reputation as a cad and a rogue? Since the days I learned to ignore the chuckles whilst my precious Milah tamed me without mercy? Since the days of darkness following her violent end? Following the loss of my hand? The loss of what precious hold I'd maintained over my sanity? Were you following me the days of Tinkerbell and Pan? The first days, I mean, not those few weeks a year past where that wretched little boy helped to take away the bit of questionable happiness I'd managed to scrape together. Or have you known me more recently, where the sharpness of my tongue had taken a turn from cutting to wit? Where I was more apt to find myself in danger than running from it? Where sacrifice and loss meant something more than reliving a dulled memory from centuries long gone?

Have you known me since meeting Emma Swan?

Have you known me since I'd found my love?

Have you known me since I'd lost my Emma to the cruelty of yet another blasted curse, when the rise of the sun no longer held the warmth and promise of a new day but instead taunted me with the bleak reminder of her golden hair, her determined eyes, and the promise of a future I'd fought for and lost?

Have you known me since I'd become a shell of the pirate I'd once been?

Know me now, dear readers, for I'm not the man I once was and will never be him again. Vengeance is no longer the goal of my every breath. Day by day is no longer the passing of my time. My goal has a new name, my life a new purpose.

Emma Swan, the Savior, my love.

It's time for her to remember the man she once called Killian when the rest of the world referred to me only as Hook.

~~?~~

She was a good mother, my Emma; she'd taken what Regina had given her and built a life around it. She was happy, Henry was happy, and I was loathe to take that from her, but even a stranger could look into her eyes and intrinsically know that there was something missing. Perhaps I was the missing piece that stole the sparkle from her eyes. I'd like to imagine that it was me, I'd like to imagine that somewhere inside of her she mourned the loss of connection between her and her pirate even if she had no memory of our limited time together. I was loathe to consider that it was the young Baelfire she was unknowingly missing, but to consider it I had no choice. The pressure of my lips to hers failed to return her memory, even if the spark that had ignited between us still tingled under my skin, potentially denying that what had built between us was nothing more than passing fancy rather than the true love pressed upon so heavily by her sunshine and rainbow influenced parents.

It was that missing piece that drove her from Henry's presence one night a week, every week. The first week I'd followed her from a distance, watching as she wandered into a bar deep below the busy streets of New York, and lost her in the darkness and smoke that smothered the patrons of the tiny dive. The colored lights pulsed in time with music so atrocious that my brain rattled within my skull, and only when hours had passed and I was on the verge of admitting I'd lost my girl to the night, did I find her again. She moved from man to man, dancing as if not an eye could see her, a stranger living in the body of the girl that had stolen my heart. My heart clutched more painfully than it had the last time it was wrapped in Cora's grip as I watched Emma move her lithe frame against the bodies of strangers. Their eager eyes and over eager hands welcomed her without prejudice, pulling her against them, grinding her against them. It was a release for my girl, dancing away the shadow of uncertainty that chased her from day to day. She was the product of true love, driven by something she couldn't name, searching within each potential mate for the other half she could no longer recall.

Watching her broke the very heart she'd pieced back together.

It was with a heavy sigh that I pushed the shrapnel of my heart into a murky pile located in the proper general vicinity of my chest. At least no one would be able to rip it from me in its current state. No one but Emma, that is.

I followed her again and again, week to week, determined to not let her out of my sight but at the same time unable cross the imaginary line she'd drawn between us. She noticed me at that bar the third week she'd gone to dance, her hazel eyes flaring dark with an emotion I couldn't name. She made no move to approach me, no indication even that she recognized me, although I knew that was only a façade. She danced harder than she had any night previous, her moves almost desperate as she fought against my gaze I know she could feel. I schooled my expression so as not to frighten her as I watched, her eyes meeting mine each time she switched dance partners. An invitation, perhaps? A warning, mayhap? A challenge, mostly likely. Still, I never left my place at the bar, a glass of weakened lager at my fingertips, my stare unwavering. She could challenge me all she wanted, my wanton girl, but she needed to take that first step. My reputation may have been that as a blackguard, but I'd never had to force my attentions on a woman, and I'd not start now. I'd spent far too much time with her bloody parents, I reckon, as I honestly believed no curse could stand long between us. Her determination to avoid me was already starting to fray around the edges, and if my pursuit of Rumpelstiltskin had taught me anything at all, it was the utmost of patience.

Two more weeks passed this way, her challenging me with determined eyes, her taunting me with eager boys, my acknowledging her with nothing more than a tip of my glass, all of it organized into a dance with which I was achingly familiar. This wouldn't go on much longer, it couldn't go on much longer, not without causalities of the heart I was unwilling to sacrifice.

Unsurprisingly, I was very right. The third week since she'd acknowledged me at that bar, the third week since her display of determination began, I'd been perched at that bar no longer than a half hour when she approached. Her expression was guarded, her eyes flashing with anger and something more, her hair fell against her neck in soft curls that she'd obviously taken care to perfect. For me? I'd like to think so.

"When are you going to quit following me around?"

To say I was startled when she spoke was an understatement. It almost took me a full ten seconds to curve my lips into a neutral smile, to tame the excitement that filled my eyes, to formulate words that wouldn't send us hurtling ten steps back.

"When are you going to admit that you like it, love?"

Yeah, those probably weren't the words I would have chosen if I'd been given enough time, but they were out there, lingering between us, and while she fought her fight or flight instinct, I fought the sudden urge to cringe.

"I'm not your love. I'm no one's love."

I couldn't stop the sigh from passing my lips or the fluidic way my body rose to its feet without command. I was an inch in front of her face, a hook in the belt of her skirt, fingers splayed out across the top of her arse, before she could even blink in reaction.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that much. There are things in this world left that could surprise even you, and I reckon that love would be the least of them."

"You're too close," she whispered, hardly able to catch her breath.

"I beg to differ. From my vantage point, I'd say I'm nowhere near close enough. Love."

I offered her no resistance as she backed away from me, but she put up no fight when I moved with her. Only when we were on the dance floor did I release my hook from her skirt. Only when her body swayed to the pulsing beat around us did I slip my fingers from her back. Only when the motion of her body against mine carried my thoughts away on a rogue wave of pleasurable agony did I spin her face away from my own, pulling her arse flush against my front, burying my face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her, remembering her, coming to life around her.

In three centuries of living amongst pirates, I'd heard enough drunken and derogatory commentary to sink a ship. The status of male genitalia was a great topic of conversation amongst my crew and the men of the ports in which we'd landed. As such, I'd always found myself deferring from the more base of thought patterns, as though to save myself the journey lowering to their level. Tonight, however, with Emma dancing against me as though I were her savior instead of the other way around, to say my mind drifted to the derogatory would not be a lie.

Leather pants did nothing to hide the state brought to life by her arse grinding against me in a rhythm I'd not felt in an age. In moments my cock swelled against the confining fabric, pulsing and aching as it sought out the heat she offered and took away repeatedly. It took her only seconds to bring me to full mast, hard enough to cut diamonds, on the edge of orgasm without even the barest touch of uncovered flesh.

I was here on a mission, I needed her to remember me for reasons greater than the three hundred days that had each been longer than any one of the three hundred years I'd spent waiting for her. In another realm, her parents waited for us, needing us, needing her, but all of that fled my mind in a rush of redirected blood for the too brief moments I held her in my arms and danced a dance that would be better served without clothing. For just a moment I forgot I was the good guy now, that sacrifice and loss were something I'd volunteered for when it came time to bring Emma home. For a single second Captain Hook returned, doing away with Killian Jones, wiping away the thoughts of what was needed for what was wanted and I ground into her wantonly and without remorse.

The effect I had on her was similar; her cheeks were flushed red, the scent of her permeated my every pore, she was warm, willing and ready to become my greatest conquest. I was mere moments from dragging her from that bar, knowing she'd offer no protest, when the good man I'd become reared up from within and pulled tight on whatever reigns I still offered, dragging it all to a halt.

"You're beautiful," I whispered against her hair, my breath falling over her ear, wringing a soul deep shudder from her body as I held her tight to me, every inch of her back pressing against my cock, my chest, my heart.

"You're insane," she panted back, arching her neck backwards, her teeth finding my jaw and nipping softly, pulling a tormented groan from my lips.

"Perhaps we'll argue that another day, love, but the fact remains, people are waiting for you."

"No one is waiting for me except Henry."

"Everyone is waiting for you, Emma Swan. Just because you've forgotten them, doesn't mean for a second we've forgotten you."

She sighed softly, her well built walls falling firmly in place as she distanced herself from my body, turning to head back to the bar. Unfortunately, my body wasn't able to follow suit, and while she had her back turned I adjusted my sensitive, swollen cock into a less painful position before joining her, keeping a safe distance between her body and mine lest she should attempt to change my mind.

"The day we met, you tried to kiss me."

I chuckled softly, leaning back against the bar, sipping the cool froth off a new mug of lager, buying myself precious seconds to return much needed blood to my brain. "That was far from the day we met, love, and not our best kiss I might add."

"You couldn't have just started out with hello?"

"Doesn't always work out in my favor, I find."

"And kissing me did?"

I drank in her soft laughter, drowning myself in her attention as eagerly as a pup would his master, and truly she was mine.

"Didn't figure it would hurt the situation at that point." I offered her a wry grin, letting my blue eyes twinkle mischievously, reaching out with my hook to trail a path of cool metal across her warm skin, watching in fascination as her flesh broke out in goose bumps and a new shiver coursed down her spine. "I thought perhaps it would break the fog of memory that Regina had bestowed upon you. Apparently, I thought wrong."

I didn't want to throw the idea of true love's kiss at her, not now, not when she was listening, honestly listening to me. Not when she was considering the absolute truth in my eyes, and don't think for a second I couldn't tell when she was looking.

"You truly believe what you're saying, don't you? You really believe that my parents are waiting for me and I have to go save them?"

"Well, that is what you do, love. Save people. Rather the definition of the title Savior, wouldn't you say?"

"I'm nobody's savior."

"Just as you're nobody's love?"

"Exactly."

"Then for once, Emma Swan, just trust me long enough to prove you wrong."

When I pulled her to me this time, she didn't pull back. When my fingers laced in her hair, she leaned into them, a soft sigh on her lips that suddenly parted. When my tongue darted out to wet my lips, her eyes tracked it, unable to look away until I moved so close she had no choice but to lower her lids. Not a whisper of protest came as I pressed my lips to hers, the electric shock that had been living under my skin since our last moment of contact breathing to life, arcing between us, coming alive on a mutual moan, binding us together as surely as our bodies would had there been no barriers to keep us apart. To my eternal surprise, it was her tongue that pressed against my lips first, begging for an entrance that I gave her most willingly. Perhaps true love's kiss wasn't meant to be as heated as this, perhaps it was just a moniker given to a virginal touch of flesh to flesh in public, perhaps it was all goat shit in the end, but who was I to argue in the face of such importance.

The world faded around us, there was no one in that bar except my love and myself, and I poured every single moment of grief, relief, hope and love that I bore for her into that single kiss. I would barter my life to the gods themselves if they'd see fit to bring Emma back to me. I would change every facet of my being if it meant bringing her home.

I'm not ashamed to admit that her name fell off my lips with a reverence I'd never before held as I parted from her, lifting my eyes to meet hers, not backing away, but not pushing forward either.

The first step was hers, as would be the final step.

I'd done all I could. I'd suffered all I could. I'd begged all I could.

The rest was up to the beauty that stood before me, her hazel eyes stunned and confused, her hands fisted tightly in my vest.

Fight or flight, little bird, it's been the choice of your entire life.

"Please," I whispered one final time.

I could now only pray that this time her choice would be to fight.

That this time her choice would be me.

~~?Fin?~~

So what did y'all think? Should I put up a smutty second block or just let this fic rest in peace? Thanks for reading and don't forget to give an old girl a bit of encouragement. It's what my muse lives on.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Little Bird

Part 2 of 2

Fandom: Once Upon a Time

Characters: Killian Jones, Emma Swan

Pairing: Captain Swan

Rating: M – smut ahoy.

Spoilers: Post 3x11 – Going Home

Summary: It's time for her to remember the man she once called Killian when the rest of the world referred to him only as Hook.

Disclaimer: Don't own it. Don't own anything really… not even my house when you think about it, the bank owns that for another fifteen years or so. I suppose I do own my car, though. And my dogs. And a rather impressive collection of Farscape memorabilia. Please don't sue… never claimed for a second to own your stuff. ;)

A/N: So, I let my muse run free with Little Bird and smut is what happened. ;) I had not intended this to end up 5k words, not for a second, but what can I say, you let my muse play with a guy wearing leather and eyeliner, and someone's getting naked. It's four in the bloody morning, I've been up for twenty hours and I've got to be at work in less than six. I'm a moron for posting this tonight, but it is what it is. It's very rare for me to write a fic that isn't smut, so believe me when I say I'm not shy and nor is my muse. We live for reviews, we love cheerleaders, and we happily take smutty requests if anyone wants to see something specific. I am finally up to date on Season 3… so come on March 9th… I'm dying here!

~~?~~

Over the course of three centuries I'd had perhaps more than my fair share of women; wives, whores and virgins, alike. I'd drowned myself in their pleasure, both the dripping liquid I'd wring easily from their cores and the screaming, breathy cries that fell wantonly from their lips. When a wench had Captain Hook bedding her, there was no doubt as to the extent of my skills, and while I felt not a flicker for any of the lovely young creatures that fell beneath me, while my own pleasure was fleeting at best, I'd always given above and beyond anything I could hope to receive.

Perhaps I'd been chasing the elusive feeling that had pressed down upon me whilst bedding my beloved Milah. Perhaps my time with the fairer sex was no more than an age old version of the same dance in which Emma had found herself in those long months when she'd forgotten all of those who cared for her. Perhaps we shared the same desperation, mine for three hundred years, hers for three hundred days, as we sought each other and waited for naught but the perfection we'd find in each other's arms.

I could dally on thoughts of fate, destiny, love at first sight and all that rot, but in the end, here, buried deep within her body, her tight walls squeezing down around me harder than the most well-oiled vice, not even my memories of Milah could stand against the molten lava coursing through my every vein, displacing my every thought, burning me and soothing me at once without mercy, as I lost myself inside the one creature in all the realms that I could never hope to deserve.

I could weep into her breasts, such was the course of emotion that flowed through me. I could crumble against her, words of love and forever dripping from my lips, such was the burning need to make her comprehend. I could burn the remnants of Captain Hook in effigy to the siren in my arms as I resurrected Killian Jones, the noble lieutenant, pure of heart, brought to life only for the bawdy lass currently writhing beneath me, taking all I had and giving her best in return. I could and would do it all, emasculation notwithstanding, if it would make any difference to my truest of loves, but she wasn't ready, couldn't be ready, and quite possibly would never be ready to know how deeply she resided within my heart. There was a time I could read the girl like an open page, her every thought tumbling forth for me and only me, but she hid them now, far away from me as she called my name into the darkness, not for a single second allowing me the peace that would come with the knowledge that she remembered.

Was she merely bedding a stranger? Perhaps rewarding the man who wouldn't give up?

Did she think a night my arms would be enough to fill the hole I could see growing inside her?

I was a pirate, a captain, a younger brother and a renowned lover. Not a thing about me made an iota of sense in this world she called home, my princess, my saviour, my Swan, but I was fail to do anything but her bidding, such was the control she had over me. She gave me no hint to the status of her memory after our kiss, following me to my pitiful quarters without comment, bedding me without so much as a how do you do. She left me without ground on which to stand, even as I buried myself within her dripping folds, taking all from her that she was willing to give and more.

Together we were undeniable perfection; I knew it, she knew it, and if I had my way soon the world across all realms would know it. I had bed the child of true love; I would wed her as well, given the opportunity.

Given the opportunity.

My goal here had been an opportunity of redemption set upon me by the parents of the very woman in my arms. I could have proven myself not merely a pirate, honoured myself in the eyes of her royal lineage, embedded myself in her world with the debt that comes with the very act I'd been sent here to do. Save her parents, save their realm, save the entire blasted world and yet I've failed. In my weakness I am nothing more than the pirate her father saw, plundering his daughter as surely as if she were the brightest treasure in the land. She'd owe me no debt, I'd find no redemption, and honour truly was among thieves not between royalty and scoundrels.

Perhaps I could have protested harder when she took my hand, leading me out of that basement bar, her fingers so warm and comfortable in mine that they stole all resistance from my frame.

Perhaps I could have pulled back when her lips sought out mine for a second kiss, a thorough plundering worthy of the most ruthless of pirates. She was a princess with a pirate's heart, my dear Swan, literally as well as figuratively, for I'd most surely given her mine before she'd even demanded it.

When she led me not to her own apartment, not to where her boy lay sleeping, where redemption lay within reach, the question of whether she remembered sprung up between us, laying there as I sought out her gaze, turning the pages of her soul but finding nothing. Still, the words evaded me, the question refusing to be asked as I led her back to the hovel in which I'd been paying to stay. My ship sat moored some distance away, cloaked to be sure, but we could have gone. I could have whisked her away without her ever knowing the difference, returning her to the Enchanted Forest, to her royal parents, to the world in which she'd been born to thrive. I could have taken her from Henry, the boy who should never have been possible, taken her from this cold world which had given her nothing but heartbreak. I could have honoured my vow to her father so easily, so effortlessly. I could have even taken pleasure in her body before doing as much, waiting until she slept against my pillow before raising sail and stealing her off into the night.

Instead, I offered no argument as we entered my quarters at the inn in which I roomed. I put up no fight as she took from me what she wanted. I was weak, I was wanton, and at my fingertips I had more than any man could deny.

She called me Killian because I'd told her that was my name. When my fingers traced over her flat stomach, under her shirt, finding her nipple with unerring perfection and pinching it softly between flesh and callous, that was what she moaned into the night. Killian... oh, god, Killian.

She had no idea how much it meant, how few had used not but my moniker, and I was lost to her charms, lost to my redemption, lost to anything but the feeling of skin on skin, the only battle now that waged was the one between our tongues, fighting for dominance as we each drowned in the taste of the other, mimicking actions that were no doubt soon to come.

I'd shredded her shirt and corset before I'd even recognized my actions, watching in awe as she pulled the tattered cloth from her body, rolling her eyes as she momentarily gazed at the destruction.

"You know, it's pretty simple to get these off without reducing them to shreds," she breathed softly, one thumb edging across a pink line in her skin that screamed at me to be more careful, I'd not drawn blood, but just a little more loss of control and... Well, it's best not to think of that now.

"Perhaps it is simple, love, but it would take far too much time. One hand, remember?" I winked at her teasingly, allowing my own thumb to trace the small scratch in her skin before lowering my lips to the line and licking away the sting left behind.

"And you're in a hurry?"

I couldn't stop the flash of duty from appearing in my eyes, my quest, my redemption, my chance at honestly winning her heart. She saw it, I know. Her eyes darkened as she reached out for me and I shook my head, offering her a lopsided grin, clearing the storm clouds in my eyes, piercing into her soul with my gaze. "Oh no, lass, we'll be taking this very, very slow. I just prefer my treasure fully exposed when I claim it."

I never thought once of how she'd get home, shredding her skirt and undergarments much the same as I had her shirt, leaving her naked and spread open on my bed, clad only in stockings and shoes that should have been impossible to navigate. I'd take them off as well, but found myself far too distracted by her charms. Fuck me, if she wasn't the most perfect creature in all the realms; blonde hair curled to her shoulders, smooth, pale skin shifting over her bones, breasts soft and begging for attention as her nipples had no choice but to harden under my gaze. She sought to steal my breath as I leaned away from her, her own fingers travelling the path of my gaze against her flesh, stealing the beat of my heart, freezing my body in place as I was helpless against the near painful, sudden swell and rise of my cock in response. When my eyes lowered to the soft dip of her stomach, her fingers followed, trailing over her flesh, pulling simple sighs from her full lips. Purposely I lowered my eyes even further, drinking in the sight of her soft curls, trimmed and shaped in a way that no woman of my realm had considered, driving my all-encompassing need for her higher and hotter in my own surprise.

"Emma, fuck," I groaned, hearing the broken tone of my voice, wondering what secrets my eyes betrayed to her knowing gaze.

"Like what you see, sailor?"

She knew how to play me, memories or not, as she spread her own thighs and a simple twitch of her fingers returned my gaze to the treasure she'd hidden between. Her body arched beneath me the moment her long fingers slid between her legs, hovering over the nerves that brought her such pleasure before slipping between folds of skin that dripped with her want of me. Her hips bucked as I watched, her body begging for my attention as I watched her move, learned what she liked from herself and committed it to memory, aching to give her whatever pleasure she demanded. The tip of one finger disappeared inside her, opening her to my hungry eyes, enhancing the scent of her that surrounded me and stole away my conscious thought. I was a golem, a statue, a creature that moved only for her whims and how I wished to know those whims.

I cut through my own pants, slicing away the leather as if it were no more than a fresh piece of bread, tearing the scraps from my body as I one handedly ripped my shirt off and let it fall to the floor in a heap of forgotten material. I was proud of my body; in three hundred years no wench had dared to complain. Dark hair, pale skin, hard muscles toned by centuries on the sea. There were scars, to be sure, of battles long ago fought and won, not the least of it my missing hand, stump covered by leather and hook as I debated removing that appendage to set her more to ease. Still, she arched beneath me, her eyes lingering not on my hook but on my cock, full and demanding, reaching for her as if it were a divining rod and she the last source of water on earth. I could quite literally feel the blood pooling out of my brain, filling me, stretching me, forcing me larger than I'd been in centuries of life, my last controllable thought being of Emma and her wide, fascinated eyes as she drank in my size and girth.

No wench had ever dared to complain, though I saw to it that they walked improperly for days following my conquests. I could almost see the realization cross Swan's features, even as her head fell back against my pillow, a soft groan on her lips as her hands fell away from her dripping core and her spread legs invited me to dine.

Dine I did, without a single moment of hesitation. It took a mere moment to have her toned thighs upon my shoulders, spreading her wider as I bowed before her, my tongue darting out eagerly to lap away the juices that flowed from her so freely. I was a man possessed, a child with too many presents, a teenaged virgin unsure where to begin. My teeth bore down on her clit, pulling, scraping lightly while she groaned and writhed against me without shame. My tongue spread open her folds, licking and tasting playfully before finding her opening and diving inside. My own eyes rolled back in my head at the flavor of her, hot and thick against my lips while I fucked her slowly, drinking in her every reaction as deeply as I drank in the very essence of her pleasure. Her body tensed visibly, her back arched, nipples hard and pointed beneath her own fingers, her core closing around my tongue insistently, demanding release. She was a powder keg, a contained explosion, and fuck if I could help myself from setting her on fire.

I dragged my tongue from her body, returning it to the tiny nerve center that no doubt throbbed as powerfully as my impatient cock. Her knees tightened around my shoulders, pinning my head tightly against her body as she struggled to find her release. I couldn't help but chuckle softly, stroking one rough finger through her heat as I raised my eyes to hers.

"Who's in a hurry now, Swan?"

She was so close, wound so tightly that the whisper of my words across her core ripped a whimpering moan from her lips, her fingers torturing her breasts with pleasure as she squeezed and pinched at them for both our benefits. Perhaps she thought me a true scoundrel; perhaps for a moment she worried I'd leave her at the precipice of flight but never take her over. Perhaps for a second the thought crossed my mind in retribution for the nights I lay awake, hard and aching, knowing the only way I'd find release would be within her walls, but I could deny her nothing.

Her words were lost to me as I returned to her sweet center, flattening my tongue against her clit the same moment I slipped not one but two long fingers into her core. I know she begged, God, Jesus, Killian. I craved to hear it again and again, wrung from her lips in such a broken plea, her sweet voice the only sound to do justice to the name with which I was born, but I could hardly drag this out any longer.

My fingers may be calloused, but they were skilled from centuries of knots and sails. I curled them within her, stroking her heated walls exactly how she needed. It took only the soft grip of my lips around her clit to take her over the edge, to have her screaming my name into the night, clenching down on my fingers so tightly that I could hardly move and my cock surged painfully with the knowledge that soon those walls would be bearing down around it. I rode her through the waves of pleasure, drinking down every last drop that escaped her, shifting my fingers within her to the natural rhythm of her body, prolonging her orgasm but leading her back to me all at the same time.

Long moments passed. A part of me feared that this would come to an end here and I'd spend yet another long night with only my own hand to help me find pleasure without peace when she came to her senses after much needed release. Part of me begged me to mount her now, before she opened her eyes, before she had a chance to reject me once again. Part of me wanted to plead with her, beg her to stay with me however she saw fit, and perhaps that was the part that scared me the most. She owned every last piece of my soul, it could no longer be denied, and if she wanted to walk away from me in this moment I'd let her because once again, I could deny her nothing.

I dragged my tongue softly through her folds once more, teasing her gripping core as I slipped my fingers from her warmth and raised my eyes to hers, hardly breathing as I waited for her reaction. It seemed an eternity before she met my gaze, her hazel eyes clouded with lust that I know could only be mirrored in mine. My pathetic excuse for a heart lurched in my chest, driving my breath from my lungs, whispering over her once again warming core as I waited.

"Gonna spend all night down there?"

Fuck me if she didn't blush as she said it, but the challenge was there between us. This wouldn't end with her single orgasm, not by a bloody longshot. I couldn't help the eyebrow that lifted in response to her challenge, no more than I could help lifting the fingers that moments ago had been inside her to my lips, lapping away her drying juices from my own hand with a soft groan.

"On the contrary, love, but I wasn't about to leave a lovely meal without one final taste."

My words were known to have made women weak in the knees, I'd seen more than a maid or two lose consciousness before I'd removed a single piece of their clothing, but the sinful whimper of want that dripped from Emma's lips in response was perhaps the most erotic thing I'd experienced to date.

"Are you ready for me, lass?" I asked quietly, shifting up her body, laying soft, open mouthed kisses against every inch of flesh in my path.

"Honestly, I'm not sure anyone could quite be ready for you," she groaned softly, wrapping her legs around my hips as I settled against her, the greedy head of my cock slipping through the renewed warmth between them.

"Was that a compliment, Swan?" That damnable eyebrow of mine rose again, teasing her as I shifted my hips, circling my cock against her clit, dragging a delightful series of groans from her throat, sounds that I chased with my lips, kissing, licking, nipping at the soft flesh I found.

"I'm not sure I should acknowledge that; your ego's already bigger than your dick. I'm not sure there's room for both in this bed."

I buried my head between her breasts, chuckling quietly even as I nipped at a peaked nipple, stealing away anything further she could say as she cried out and arched beneath me. I shifted my hips lightly, letting the head of my cock slip through her folds, pressing insistently against the entrance to her body, opening her just enough to garner her full attention.

"Are you sure there's not room for both, love?" I asked quietly, pushing forward until the very tip of my cock lay encased within her warmth, lowering my lips to her throat and sucking hard against the rapid beat of her heart to smother the groan of restraint that threatened to burst from my chest.

"Killian!"

I'd taken her words and wrenched them from her brain; I'd rendered her incapable of thought; I'd brought Emma Swan to her knees with just the barest tip of my cock inside her; I'd made her beg and that mere fact chased away the good lieutenant that wanted to show her restraint and brought back the cruel captain that demanded his release.

I could wait no more.

I pressed my lips to hers and swallowed her sharp cry of pleasure as I speared into her body, her snug little channel struggling as it stretched to accommodate me. She was wrapped so tightly around me that I could feel the beats of both her heart and mine through every inch that found home within her body. I drove into her mercilessly, forcing her open, stretching her further than she could have known possible until I was seated fully inside her, and it was her turn to swallow the pathetic whimpers of intense pleasure that traitorously passed my lips as fireworks lit behind my eyelids.

"Fuck, Emma, you're so bloody tight, so good," I wish I had better words for her, I wish I'd been a poet instead of a pirate so that I could properly explain to her exactly how it felt to have her wet heat pressed around me so achingly tight that I swear I could see heaven.

I slowly pulled out of her heat, inch by inch dragging myself out of her body until only the head of my cock remained, pulsing, aching, cursing me for my lack of speed, lack of force as I waited to be sure she was fully ready for what was to come.

"Tell me you want me, love, tell me you want this," I whispered brokenly against her ear, sucking her lobe between my lips, nibbling on it softly as I thrust into her lightly, only allowing her a few inches before pulling back again and waiting.

"I want you, I want this, please, for god's sake, I'm offering, take it!"

Her voice was broken by unrestrained passion, her need over powering her mind as she thrust up beneath me, forcing me deeper inside of her, taking away the last bit of will I had left. Hook on her shoulder, hand on her hip, I drove into her, spearing her open only to pull back out and drive in again stronger, faster, deeper. I pulled one leg back up onto my shoulder, opening her wider, driving into her harder, losing the train of thought that should be worried for her comfort as my cock swelled and throbbed within her, the head pulsing and growing impossibly larger the deeper I drove and the tighter she grew around me. Her body pulsed out fresh liquid, drowning me in her scent, reminding me of the taste of her still on my lips, burying my rational side in dark clouds of pheromones, leaving only two words reverberating through my mind.

Mine.

More.

I couldn't have stopped the words from escaping me if I tried, chanting in time with the brutal rhythm I'd taken within her. Perhaps I was begging her, pleading with her to understand, but really I was staking a claim that never should have been mine to stake in the first place.

"Mine, mine, mine," I groaned into her ear accentuated by every thrust of my cock into her molten depths.

Fuck, I knew I was close. My balls were hard and tight up against me, streaks of white lightening were blinding me even with my eyes tightly shut, my rhythm was becoming disjointed and I lost track of the cries of my love beneath me as I drove myself into her over and over, claiming her the only way I knew how.

I meant to help her to her own climax, I meant to find that little bundle of nerves and press down upon it with a practiced thumb, but I could hardly tear myself away from her sweet neck, couldn't even stop long enough to realize what I was saying to her as I chased my climax desperately. I was swollen to the point of pain, my body seized tight in sensation as I fought for my release in her too tight body, I was whimpering more than chanting now, I know, because when she came around me, her orgasm forcing her slick channel to clench down on my engorged flesh, she cried out desperately, her nails digging into my back and drawing ten distinct lines of blood that I pray scar beautifully, and even over the blood rushing through my brain I heard her sweet words.

"Yes, yours,"

And fucked if it wasn't enough to make me explode. I may have howled like a wounded animal, or cried like a new born infant. I may have dug into her shoulder a little too hard with my hook, into her hip a little too hard with my fingers. I may have bit down on her throat to the point that I could taste blood between my lips, but none of that mattered as I surged into her deeper than I could have imagined and came with the force of an untamed hurricane. She pulsed and throbbed around me, milking me for everything I had and more, and by all that's good and holy I gave it to her. My heart and soul poured into her body as surely as did my seed, but she'd only ever be able to expel the latter. She owned me in a way no woman could have ever before her, and no woman would ever again.

I was still hard within her, one mind blowing orgasm nowhere near enough to take away more than a year of raw need, but I was merciful as I looked down upon her, shifting my hips only enough to entice her body, not quite enough to drive her back to a precipice I knew she'd not soon be ready to meet again.

"Emma," I whispered, unable to stop the outside from creeping up and intruding on my blissful release. "Say my name."

She smiled at me softly, her eyes full of caring confusion as she reached up to stroke my face. "Killian," she whispered back, so very innocently.

Tonight, for once, that wasn't the name I needed to hear. "Please, lass, you have to remember. You own every part of me; I kept my promise, Swan, I never let a single day go past without thinking of you. Three hundred and sixty days. Eight thousand hours spent torturing myself with your memory, knowing you couldn't remember me. I couldn't even escape you in my dreams; you were in every one, ripping my heart out night after night. Please, please don't let this just be another nightmare. You know me, or you wouldn't be here, we wouldn't be here. Give an old pirate a bit of peace, love, and just say you remember. Just say my name."

The magnitude of the moment chased away the lingering passion within my body, and slowly I slipped from her folds, but I remained atop her mercilessly, forcing her to meet my tortured eyes. Everything I ever felt for the bloody woman was written on my face and I let her see every agonizing emotion as it bled through my eyes like an evening tide. She tested every ounce of will I could manage as she fought my plea, her eyes pained but revealing nothing. I thought I'd break, lose whatever sanity I had left, as I waited, my patience waning with every second she refused to answer.

Finally, she reached up and cupped my face. I'd never felt a touch so soft, so bloody caring as I did in that moment, and my body melted against hers in reaction. I was that lost to her that a simple touch took away everything bad and left only her. Only Emma.

"Hook," she whispered finally, a simple word, a name I loathed to hear on her lips and yet needed to with every fibre of my soul.

I'd like to say that I was a man about it, that I kissed her soundly and rolled away with my pride intact, but that truly wasn't the case. She wiped tears from my eyes as I kissed her sloppily, open mouthed kisses against her lips, her cheeks, her throat, her breasts, her laughter joining my own as finally the last bit of tension seeped from my bones and I gathered her to my chest with shaking arms.

"You had me for a minute there, Swan," I murmured softly as I nipped at her earlobe, worrying the soft flesh between my teeth.

"The way you were panting mine just a while ago, I figured I'd have you for a lot more than a minute," she teased back, her fingers finding the short hairs at the back of my neck and stroking me with a touch so light I about melted.

"You'll have me that way as long as you want, lass, but you know that's not what I meant. When did you remember?"

The way the slow blush crept up her neck and stole over her cheeks, I understood. She knew far longer than she'd ever be willing to admit. I couldn't help the cocky grin that lifted my lips, or the dance of sparkles she was sure to see in my eyes.

"Don't even think it, Hook," she warned me, her blush growing deeper.

"I reckon there's a bit more to this true love's kiss hog swallow your parents are always on about, then, don't you?"

"Hook…"

"Just tell me this, Swan, did you know before you kneed me in the balls, or was it the kiss tonight that finally did the trick?"

"You're never going to let this go, are you?"

"Ah, now, love, you do realize you owe me at least a century of gloating for what you've put me through."

"Take that up with Regina, this was her bright idea, remember?"

Regina. The Curse. The Enchanted Forest. Fuck.

"I hate to say it, Emma, but…"

She nodded slowly, understanding the shift in my demeanor as easily as if she resided in my own mind. There was no doubt in my heart that we were made for each other. Renegade Pirate and Runaway Princess. Savior and Scoundrel. A romance for the ages.

"Don't sound so glum, love, you've had quite the vacation." I winked at her, rolling away to lay on my back, crossing my arms under my head, my hook resting against the headboard.

"Three hundred and sixty days off in a row. I guess they really meant it when they said to be careful what you wish for."

I closed my eyes, letting the peace of the moment wash over me, stealing this one selfish night for myself before returning to the real world and the complications that came with being in love with the bloody saviour.

"Go to sleep, love, we've got a long day tomorrow."

"You won't leave?"

I cracked one eye open, staring at her in disbelief.

"You couldn't get rid of me when you tried, Princess, what makes you think I'm going anywhere now?"

They weren't the most romantic of words, but that's the thing about me and Swan. We could read each other's souls and know the truths that resided within. We would go home, save the realm, and never, ever talk about what all of this meant.

Yep, her father's going to kill me. Let's face it, her mum might have a go at me as well. There will be more than a bit of explaining to do for the boy. Perhaps it's best not to even consider young Baelfire at this point. Tomorrow would be a long day, and perhaps the days to come even longer, but for the first time in three hundred years I can honestly say it doesn't matter. Come what may, I've found my second chance at happiness. It'll be a damn cold day in hell before I let anyone take that away again.

~~Fin~~


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